


Ghosts And Mirrors

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Æsir Pride And Jötunn Brides [3]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Intersex Loki, Jötunn Loki, M/M, Size Kink, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2649158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki may be partnered with Thor now, but that hardly means he cannot indulge himself and a good friend now and then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts And Mirrors

"You and Thor are well-entwined." Heimdall says in a light, amused tone, leaning comfortably upon his staff and watching the Frost Giant as he enters the observatory. Loki moves with a swagger to his hips, confident as only someone fucking the resident monarch's _son_ could be; his shoulders are broad and there is a smirk on his face.

Heimdall seems happy to see him.

"He is passable in bed." Loki answers. "I doubt he could compare to _your_ skill, of course." Heimdall laughs, the sound low and utterly delightful to Loki’s ears.

"How would you know?"

"I wouldn’t. But I _do_ wish I did.”

“And yet I cannot assist you with those bare dreams, Jötunn. Particularly not given your current partner.” Loki _gasps_ , clutching at his own chest.

“You're not suggesting I would tend to _infidelity!_ ” Loki says in a feigned fashion of complete shock.

“I am suggesting no such thing, princeling.” Heimdall says, amusement saturating his voice. Loki chuckles, untying his hair and letting it fall free as he knows the other man prefers.

“It's a bizarre practice.” He says after a pause, and Heimdall tilts his head, apparently confused by the statement.

“Hmm?”

“Monogamy.” Loki supplies, and he frowns slightly, shaking his head as Heimdall nods his own in understanding. “It makes no sense. The Æsir treasure their children, and while you're not particularly infertile, as a people, you do not maximise your chances of catching. It's odd.”

“Many believe that one person ought be sufficient in the bedroom.” Loki looks at Heimdall with an expression of undisguised horror. _One_ person? _Eternally_?

“This explains your people's penchant for fairy tales.” Heimdall laughs.

“Not everyone believes such things. Honour ought not be too closely linked to the spread or press together of one's legs, I think.” Heimdall replies.

“Don't you?” Loki speaks in a teasing and easy fashion; instead of his usual conjuration of a chair or a tool, he conjures himself a bed made after the Æsir fashion, a simple thing with little to be seen in regards to footboard or headboard. The sheets are plush and silken, however, and made in a perfect Jötunn blue.

He _throws_ seiðr in all directions, carefully ensuring no eyes but Heimdall's can see the show he is about to put on, and Heimdall arches a graceful eyebrow that is, unfortunately, hidden beneath that lovely helmet of his.

Loki begins to undo his shirt, then, the laces of it swiftly being untied by his graceful and rapidly moving fingers, and Heimdall watches him with a particular and pointed care, _fascinated_. Loki carefully bares the flesh of his chest to the air, and then he lets his shirt slide from his shoulders to bare yet more to Heimdall's sight.

His lips twitch as Heimdall's jaw gives a tiny twitch, and Loki knows precisely what he's doing as he continues on and on. He unfastens his leather trousers, next, and the boots are kicked off before his trousers come off as well.

“What are you doing, Loki?” Heimdall asks, but there is a smirk on his face as he speaks, and it doesn't seem like he's going to stop Loki from undressing himself any time soon. “I shall not leave my place.”

“Oh, but _Heimdall_ , dear Heimdall. You need not.” Loki waves his hand with a decent flourish, and beside him appears a mirror of Heimdall in an opaque silver. One can see right _through_ him, as he's barely a ghost, but he is more than sufficient for Loki's purposes.

Loki climbs up onto the bed, and then he slides onto his knees and forearms, putting himself into the pillows with his thighs spread wide, and he shows off the glisten of his ready cunt as his cock hangs down.

The ghost of Heimdall moves up behind Loki, and his cock – generously sculpted by Loki's seiðr – is lined up against him. Loki conjures himself a mirror, and he watches Heimdall's face in it as his lips part and his eyes widen slightly.

Oh, _yes_.

Loki lets out a cry as Heimdall's mirror presses inside him, filling him _very_ well indeed, and he knows that with this toy's _transparency_ , Heimdall will be able to see the inside of his cunt twitch pink and wet.

“By the _Allfather_.” Heimdall whispers as he watches with an unfaltering gaze, and Loki starts to laugh until the ghost begins to thrust, his hips canting rapid and hard into Loki's with an obscene slap of not-flesh on Loki's _real_ skin, and Loki is left _squirming_ despite himself; it's his own illusion, certainly, but he'd given off a simple idea to the seiðr creation, and that had been to fuck Loki until he cried.

And oh, _oh_ , it feels like it will.

Loki feels punched full with every new thrust, and his cock _swings_ , wet at the head and twitching somewhat as his cunt is stretched wide; that certain _spot_ being thoroughly stimulated, the spongey coin of nerve upon nerve just inside him being dragged over again and again by the head of the ghost-Heimdall's prick.

His heavy balls swing _satisfyingly_ against the base of Loki's own cock with each and every thrust, and it's good, good, _perfect_ , in fact.

Especially when Loki manages to glance up and see Heimdall licking his lips and looking more affected than Loki has ever seen him.

“Are you enjoying that, princeling?” Heimdall asks, voice like gravel, and Loki lets out a sharp _whine_ despite himself. He'd expected Heimdall to watch and be silent and _delight_ in what he sees – he honestly had not banked on the other's _speech_ teasing him. “I trust you realize it's no comparison to the real thing; I've a more impressive girth.”

Loki moans, presses his face firmly into the pillows below him and arching his back, pressing his arse back against the other's hips, canting his cunt up for _more_. The ghost reaches beneath him, hand tight on his cock, and Loki comes with a desperate noise that is half-garbled.

“Keep going.” Heimdall says, and Loki grits his teeth, taking in a harsh breath through his nose as the hammer of the ghost's thrusts continues. He will bear it; he _must_ bear it, 'til he cries, and Heimdall does not seem to mind at all.

Oh, yes: he had been _quite_ correct in choosing Heimdall as a “friend” amongst the Æsir.

  


 


End file.
